


My 'Super' Best Friend

by Kivea



Category: South Park
Genre: Comedy, Enemies to Lovers, Freedom Pals - Freeform, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Rivals, Secret Identity, South Park: The Fractured But Whole, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivea/pseuds/Kivea
Summary: The day that the Coon and Friends officially joined the Freedom Pals was supposed to be one of the happiest days of Toolshed's life. Reunited with his best friend, both in and out of mask, and all back to normal.He wasn't prepared for his super best friend to be joined by a new'super'best friend.
Relationships: Stan Marsh/Craig Tucker
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome I wanted to write Staig so here I am. 
> 
> I'm not like THE BEST at action (because I've never really done it) but I like to push my comfort zone sometimes!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The day that the Coon and Friends officially joined the Freedom Pals was supposed to be one of the happiest days of his life. He could feel the energy buzzing about in his veins as the original members of Freedom Pals were preparing for the newcomers to arrive. He was barely able to concentrate on the instructions he was given on repairs that needed to be made to the building beforehand. Call Girl was insisting that they be in top shape for their old rivals. Enemies turned friends still had a lot to prove, according to her. 

He didn’t care. All he cared about was having his best friend back, and he knew she knew. 

The Professor announced their arrival. He sensed their presence beyond the gates to the mansion, alerting the rest of the team to be ready. They assembled in the entry way, Mysterion diligently by the Professor’s side to welcome the newcomers. The good cop and bad cop. That was all he thought of whenever he saw them both. 

“Calm down,” Call Girl's voice was firm in his ear, but there was a teasing smile on her face. “Don’t be so obvious.” 

“I’m just – I’m excited,” Toolshed hissed back. “I can’t help it.” 

Before she had a chance to answer, the doors were opening. They both straightened their backs and stood tall as they looked forward. 

The familiar sight of the flying hero brought a wide smile to his face. It was no surprise he came in first. 

The Professor’s voice spoke in each of their minds: _'Welc_ _ome, heroes, to your new home.’_

Kite stepped forward with a smile and an outstretched hand, Mysterion stepping forward to shake it on the Professor’s behalf. 

_‘W_ _e have set up space for introductions. Please, follow us. You will soon receive a tour.’_

It took every inch of his body not to make a beeline for the hero in teal. He stuck by Call Girl's side instead as the two groups followed the Professor through the mansion. Mysterion was on one side, with Kite on the other. Seeing Kite in the place that he’d come to call his own base, a home in itself, was like a dream come true. 

Call Girl squeezed his arm as they all settled in the meeting room. The table was long; long enough for all the old guard and the new to sit comfortably. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed not to be opposite Kite, but the green eyes met his long enough to wink in his direction. 

Utter joy. That’s all he was feeling. 

The Professor had a welcoming speech prepared in an attempt to bridge the gap between the groups and make the newbies a little more comfortable in a place that previously would’ve been enemy territory. He could see the discomfort in some faces; the way The Captain was looking around the room seeming to trouble focusing in on the Professor’s words, brows drawn close and mouth drooping. 

Kite’s expression at the head of the table was as schooled as his alter-egos could be. A polite smile, eyes focused on the Professor’s face despite the voice echoing in their heads. At the other end of the line was Fastpass, someone that Stan had gotten on well with before the groups had been split. His face wasn’t as composed as Kite’s, but there was a relaxed nature to his posture that meant it wouldn’t take him long to fit in. 

Then there were the other two. The pair that sat next to each other, one seeming even more nervous than The Captain, and the other stoic with a face that betrayed nothing. They were the ones Stan was most suspicious about, though that may have been personal biases speaking. He hadn’t really known them before well before the split. 

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” Kyle said, snapping Toolshed’s attention back to the head of the table. “We appreciate everything you’ve done to help us. It’ll be nice to work as one group again.” 

_‘It’s nice to have the team back together._ _We made sure to keep space for you, in case you decided to join us.’_

It wasn’t a lie. It was clear, from the features like the extensive table in the meeting room, that the place was always designed for all of them. There was only one chair unfilled, the other end of the table to the Professor. 

_‘We were hoping to give each of you a buddy, to help show you around the place. Maybe do a couple of missions?’_

“That’d be great,” Kite turned to look down the line of his companions. “We’ve got a good number for it.” 

_‘Excellent! If you have no complaints, Freedom Pals, can you show the person opposite you around the building?’_

Toolshed felt his heart sink. He looked across to see The Captain standing with everyone else, putting on a brave face as he opened his mouth to greet Toolshed. It was comical the way the confidence was shattered with a high-pitched yelp as a gloved hand settled on his shoulder. 

Mysterion all but materialised behind him and in a low, gravelly voice said: “Captain. You’re with me.” 

Toolshed looked around to see who that left him with. When he met the green eyes again, his heart lifted. He couldn’t have stopped the wide smile breaking on his face if he tried. He stood and made his way over, offering a hand to the flying hero and said: “Kite! Welcome to the club!” 

“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face,” Kite responded, standing in the now empty room and wrapping Toolshed in a hug. Toolshed accepted it without question, wrapping his own arms round the lithe waist and picking him up in his enthusiasm, laughing at the noise of protest Kite made. 

“C’mon,” he gestured for Kite to follow him after they pulled apart. “I’ve got something to show you, specifically.” 

Kite quirked a brow. “Me?” 

“When Tupperware had me remodel the place to accommodate hero training, he kind of planned it with everyone in mind, but that included you guys,” Toolshed explained as they headed back towards the entrance hall. The other heroes were dotted about; Tupperware was in the hall himself with Mosquito, the pair chattering excitably together as the latter gushed about the quality of their new hideout. “But, I dunno if you’ve noticed this, all the flying guys were on your team.” 

Kite picked up the pace at that. “You made a place for us?” 

“Yeah, I did. I’ll show you!” 

The mansion was three storeys, and the stairways were broad and circular. When Toolshed first saw the house that Tupperware was ‘donating’ to the cause, he was ecstatic, even if at the time it was in need of repair. Repairs that they mostly had to do themselves. Between Mysterion and Call Girl's clean up and elbow grease, and his and Wonder’s efforts to DIY the place into shape, he thought they did a pretty good job. 

It was a real hideout. Not like the hidden basement that he remembered the Coon and Friends having. 

But they didn’t stop at any of the three floors they passed. He caught Call Girl's gaze on the way up as she rolled her eyes at the pair before going back to explaining the layout to Fastpass. They headed to a set of winding stairs tucked in an alcove at the top, Toolshed gestured for the other to go first. He didn’t have to ask twice. 

He followed up to see Kite already elbow deep in the shit they had stored up there. “Sorry it’s a bit cluttered,” Toolshed rushed. “Because we didn’t really have anyone who used the room, it became a bit of a dumping ground, so-!” 

“It’s perfect!” 

His breath got caught in his throat at the smile across his best friend’s face. 

“Dude, it’s perfect. Thank you.” 

Toolshed beamed wide back, jumping into action as he raced to the window that overlooked the grounds. “Check this out!” 

The majority of their day was spent in the attic, Toolshed showing off various things that had been stored in there over the last year. Kite spent a while looking out the window too, eyes wide as he took in exactly how vast the land around them was. Empty for miles, according to Tupperware. He could tell Kite was itching to take to the skies. 

But instead the green eyed hero sat on the floor of the attic and got Toolshed to tell him how things worked for the Freedom Pals. Ever practically minded, he cared more about the inner workings of the team than of the building they used as a hideout. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but they were eventually joined by the owner of the building and his companion. Mosquito arrived with bug-eyes, looking round the room with childlike wonder. Kite was on his feet in seconds to show his teammate the different features that Toolshed had shown him, focusing heavily on that same window. 

Toolshed brushed his trousers off as he stood, turning to see Tupperware next to him. “It’s kinda nice to all be in the same building. It’s not as weird as I thought it would be.” 

He had to agree. “It’s like they were meant to be here. Though, I guess we did kind of build it that way.” 

“We did, yeah.” 

Once Mosquito was done with looking around, Tupperware suggested they head back down show he could see if there were any tasks that the Professor needed them to do. It kicked the other pair into gear realising that they hadn’t really been super productive with their ‘tour time’. They didn’t rush though as they began to head downstairs again. 

“There’s a lot of space,” Kite noted. “Rooms and stuff.” 

“Sometimes we stay,” Toolshed admitted. There was an edge of Kite’s expression at that. “There’s a few dorm-type rooms. Call Girl's here a lot.” 

“So do you all…know each other’s names?” 

He shook his head quickly. “No! No, we don’t. The Professor – well, he lives here, and from what I gather he just lives his life as himself. Professor Timmy doesn’t really have an alter ego, so much as no one really knows much about where he’s from.” 

“And the others?” 

“Mysterion is as mysterious as you get. Tupperware I don’t either. They both keep themselves pretty close to their chest.” 

“So you stayed here when you weren’t at the flat?” 

Toolshed grimaced. “Kite…” 

“I know, we’re not meant to mix – business with leisure,” Kite’s grimace said everything. “But…I dunno. I guess I just wanted to know you haven’t been spending the last however long on the street or camping out in the storerooms.” 

“I haven’t,” Toolshed promised. “I’ve stayed here.” 

“Good. Thank you.” 

The rooms were numerous, and Toolshed showed him to where there were basic dorm-style bedrooms for people to stay in, right next to where the medical centre was. When they arrived in the room, he wasn’t surprised to find Wonder inside, the blonde turning with a shaky wave and forced smile. 

He was caught by the other person standing over Wonder, arms crossed and face still monotone. 

“Hey,” Kite greeted. “Glad we’re not the only two who got too caught up talking to actually explore.” 

“Been hiding in a skylight somewhere?” the stoic man’s voice was deep and a touch nasally, but it suited him. 

“The attic.” 

The expression broke for a smirk. “The fucking _attic_?” 

“It’s super cool up there!” Wonder insisted. “But none of us ever used it. It’s kind of built for…well, for Kite and Mosquito.” 

The smirk gave way to a warmer smile. “Thought of everyone, huh?” 

“We tried. Toolshed did a lot of the building, actually. It was – everyone did a good job.” 

Kite nudged him in the side. “That’s you. Are you gonna introduce yourself, or what?” 

“He knows me,” he muttered as he rubbed his side. “I think.” 

“I do. But I can introduce myself anyway. I don’t think we spoke much, before,” the man stepped forward and Toolshed tried not to think of how much taller the other man was, or how much bigger he seemed when he extended a hand. “Super.” 

“Super,” he kept the handshake brief. “I’m Toolshed. It’s nice to – uh – re-meet you?” 

“Sure.” 

Kite rolled his eyes at the awkward encounter. “Smooth. Real smooth. C’mon, let’s keep going. Leave these two to catch up.” 

Super levelled Kite with a disapproving look, but Kite was quick to drag him out the room before he could ask about it. He glanced over his shoulder to see the door shut with a resounding thud. 

“So, he seems…nice?” 

“He’s fine,” Kite assured. “A bit rough around the edges, but he’s a good person. Helped me a lot with organising this whole merger thing. Gave the rightly earned punch to Coon’s ego.” 

“Like…literally?” 

“Literally.” 

“Sweet.” 

Kite sniggered. “It was, yeah. But I know he’s been looking forward to seeing Wonder again. They were a team, after all.” 

He remembered that much. He remembered sitting down on the first day that they had arrived at the mansion after leaving the Coon and Friends with the blonde hero, rubbing his back as the man sobbed despairingly at the reality of the split. The reality that he’d left and his partner hadn’t followed him. 

He hadn’t checked in to see how the blonde felt about the two teams joining again under the new name. He thought maybe he should’ve in hindsight. 

He spent far too long showing Kite the workshop where he and Tupperware spent most of their time, building and fixing things. He showed off one of his newer projects; a new earpiece for Call Girl to allow her to listen in on private lines. He laughed at Kite’s face. The woman’s methods had always been a bit invasive for Kite’s tastes. 

_‘_ _Toolshed_ _, Kite. Please, come to the briefing room. We have a mission._ _It’s an emergency.’_

They shared a look after hearing the Professor’s voice reach their minds. Toolshed stood first, leading the way. 

The room had a large, electronic map of the city, where all the information and whereabouts of persons of interest was housed. He saw a few blue dots that represented the heroes he worked with. It had information about police cameras, hotspots of activity, areas where police were gathering. It was a tool that he had helped Call Girl build, and it was invaluable to keeping them on target. 

A camera was open on the screen when they got in, the Professor standing with Mysterion by his side, tablet in his hands scrolling through some data. Always looking serious. 

_‘Thank you for joining us,'_ the Professor’s voice spoke. _'As you see, a couple of your_ _co-workers_ _look like_ _they’re_ _about to face a spot of trouble. We were hoping you would be able to get to them,_ _asap_ _.’_

On the view of the camera were two heroes in blue, peering round a corner towards an area that the camera didn't quite cover. 

_‘Wonder has sent a message. They believe they have stumbled upon a gang war_ _.’_

Kite stepped forward. “We’ll go. Be their backup, right?” 

_‘Exactly.’_

Mysterion stepped up, face mostly hidden by his hood, but his eyes were as piercing as ever. “You’ve shown him the loft.” 

“Yes, I have,” Toolshed confirmed. 

“Kite, we want you to fly the two of you out there to help.” 

“You can count on us,” Kite said with a strong stance. “Right, ‘Shed?” 

Toolshed grinned at the confirmation. “Right!” 

They got to go out in the field together. The two of them, fighting crime again. Out there. The perfect pair. 

Having Kite secure him in place before taking off from the top of the attic was like a dream come true, and just as sweet as he remembered. 

“Hold on!” 

He felt a rush as his feet left the floor. They soared over the grounds, the trees that surrounded the area, and watched as they passed the edge of the cliff that was the highest point for the manor. From there, the city limits started. It was a birds eye view that had missed so, so very dearly. 

The yellow goggles that sat on his face lit up with information as they got closer to the location of the pair. Toolshed directed Kite, getting closer and closer. He saw it from a distance, the wind beginning to whip up in the area as Wonder’s powers were activated. 

“There!” he shouted out, despite the fact that Kite had probably seen it himself. “That’s where we need to be.” 

The landing was fast and abrupt, diving down with the wind whistling past them as they rushed to the chaos. Wonder was the one who greed them, standing in front of the self-contained storm he had created. A cold flurry; a typical Wonder way to keep a large-scale fight contained. 

“Toolshed,” Wonder’s voice echoed whenever his powers were active like this in an almost eerie way. “Kite.” 

“How many?” Kite asked, eyes focused on the battle field. 

“Looks like 40. Two gangs.” 

Kite clicked his tongue as he looked at the barrier Wonder was creating with his storm. “Super?” 

“He’s in there. I’m keeping him going.” 

“Let’s go,” Kite grasped his arm and pulled him forward. “Can we-?” 

Wonder let out a breath, calming his nerves as he altered the self-contained storm ahead. It widened, rushing past the three of them to encompass them in the area. Toolshed stopped to take stock of the scene in front. 

About 40 had been right. It looked like two separate gangs, though there were a few unconscious bodies around the mess in the centre. The fight was loud, and right bang in the middle of it all was Super. The navy hero threw punch after punch and took punch after punch, a cut on his cheek dripping blood down his neck. But despite the obvious wounds and dirt on his clothes he was doing a decent job at holding his own against two gangs. 

He guessed that’s why they called him the front-line hero. 

Toolshed went to spring into action, but Kite beat him to it. 

“Super!” he called out, retrieving the shield from his back and winding up to throw. “Catch!” 

Super wasted no time. He roared out as he landed a solid punch into a guy’s stomach, using the folding person as a foothold to leap up. He caught the shield easily, sliding onto his arm and using the momentum to swing back down towards the ground, smacking someone square in the face with the flat of the shield. 

Kite was in the air seconds later, a gust of wind surrounding Super’s being. It was a skill that Toolshed remembered. A buff to help a fighter keep going when he was kicked down. 

“Took you long enough!” Super called up as the crowd surrounding him seemed to stumble back away from the wind whipping through the air. 

“You’re fucking welcome, asshole!” Kite shot back. 

Toolshed watched the banter between the two as the gang members charged forward with renewed vigour. It was distracting, because of how naturally it flowed. Because of how Kite’s immediate response had been to call for _Super_ , not for him. 

“Toolshed, focus!” 

He snapped his head back to the task at hand by Wonder’s call, turning to see the blonde’s glowing eyes on him. He nodded and reached towards his back pouch, withdrawing what looked like a large, heavy watch to strap to his wrist. 

“Ready!” 

He felt Wonder’s presence behind him, the air thick with static wherever he moved. He saw the dial on his stun-watch begin to fluctuate as he aimed and – 

The shot hit it’s mark dead-on, taking down the guy it hit instantly. It was a temporarily paralysis, but it was all they needed. None of his tools did permanent damage. 

Wonder charged him back up and he began to fire at a more rapid rate, narrowly avoiding Super in the process. The guy shot him a nasty look as a bolt went whizzing past, but he said nothing and continued to throw punches. 

There were a couple of guys who turned their attention to the pair, charging forward. They didn’t make it very far before the ground in front of them was singed with a line. Kite’s eyes were always accurate. 

Wonder took a step back and Toolshed took to fighting in a more similar way to how Super was, firing one last bolt before defending himself from the two who hadn’t stumbled at Kite’s attack. Wonder was quick to back him up, the gloves he wore safe from the harsh temperatures of ice. 

There was something satisfying about being able to say he’d punched with a fist of ice. 

The fighting didn’t last much longer, but once the bodies were down and Wonder’s storm had settled, the field was quite clearly split in two. On one had stood Toolshed and Wonder, and on the other… 

Kite settled on the ground next to Super, who looked up with a smirk and raised his fist. Kite grinned back and raised his own, knocking their knuckles together. The force caused a hammer to nail a bolt straight into Toolshed’s stomach. 

Kite had _never_ given him a fist bump. 

“Good job,” Wonder called out as he settled his powers and stumbled onto ground level with everyone else. “That was – good job!” 

“You too,” Super nodded. “How’s your head?” 

“Fine, fine, it’s better. I’ve got better.” 

“Good.” 

Kite turned to Wonder, face all business as he spoke. “What’s your protocols for criminals like this?” 

“We would contact the police through the radio with the pager than Call Girl gave us all – Toolshed have you contacted them yet?” 

Three sets of eyes fell on him. He fumbled through the haze that was in his brain, the question he’d been asked completely not registering at all. “What?” 

“The police,” Wonder pressed. “Have you called them?” 

“No, not – I’ll do it now,” he searched round his many pockets for the pager, swearing low as he looked for it. The eyes were still on him, and it wasn’t helping calm his nerves at all. 

Wasn’t helping calm the thoughts spinning round his head of _what the fuck was that_? 

He managed to organise himself enough to get his work head back on by the time he had his pager and had sent it through, pulling out cable ties for them to make sure no gang members regained consciousness and escaped. Wonder had been contacted by the Professor, who advised they came back to the manor once they had finished cleaning up. 

He fell in line with Kite, who was back to his side, like he hadn’t just ran off with someone else to fight. The redhead had a smile on his face as he adjusted his aviator goggles to sit on top of his head. 

“Good teamwork!” 

“Yeah,” Toolshed agreed with a little less enthusiasm. “Good teamwork.” 

They went back to the manor, and he did his best not to mention it. 

\--

_4 – 0 – 6_

The apartment number stared back at him, gold lettering looking just as worn as the day he had left. He had barely been in the flat for weeks, living there becoming too hard eventually when he was barely speaking to the flatmate he was with. It was miserable. He had been miserable. But now he was back. 

“You still have your keys, right?” 

Kyle’s voice was encouraging behind him, but he didn’t pull his eyes away from the numbers. He nodded numbly and fished them out, finally turning his eyes to the lock. 

He opened the door and walked into the apartment. 

When he had left the Coon and Friends to help form Freedom Pals, they had tried their best not to let it affect their living situation. He had been with Kite since he left home; they were _best friends_. The idea of living anywhere else didn’t sit right. But eventually…it had been too hard. 

They didn’t speak, didn’t greet each other. So he packed a bag and moved to work from the Manor. And then came back when he realised he’d forgotten some things. And then stopped coming back. 

“Like I said, Kenny’s been crashing for a few weeks,” Kyle pressed as they entered the house. Once there was space he had shot forward to busy himself about tiding some mess while Stan observed the room. “He needed somewhere temporary, and…I dunno, I felt bad asking you for rent.” 

“It’s alright. I knew he was. He did tell me when he moved in, to make sure I was okay with it. It just kind of…worked out well, with the timing.” 

“Yeah, it did,” Kyle agreed. “He moved in pretty soon after you moved out, and didn’t need more than two months.” 

It was just like he remembered it. Small living room that led to the kitchen area, where they had a little dinner table with two chairs. A hallway that led to the two bedrooms. A bathroom that suited the both of them fine. 

It was nice to be home. 

He dropped his duffle bag by the door and moved to sink into the couch. His couch. He’d missed it. 

“That’s nice,” he muttered as he sunk in to his favourite spot. “Shit, dude, I’ve missed this.” 

Kyle smirked down at him, arms folded across his chest. “Do you want something to eat? It’s been a long evening.” 

“It has, yeah. If you don’t mind. I’ve missed your cooking, too.” 

“Well, it’s just gonna be leftovers, so I hope that’s good enough.” 

“Perfect.” 

When Kyle disappeared to warm up the food, Stan took the chance to properly investigate the room. There was a magazine – looked like something Kenny had left – sitting on the coffee table next to Kyle’s favourite fidget toy; a rubix cube. An assortment of game controllers for the Xbox and PlayStation that sat underneath the TV, one for each of them. The PlayStation looked a little dusty. 

It was tidy, which didn’t surprise him at all. In the bathroom was his favourite shampoo, fully stocked and brand new. He remembered Kyle mentioned that he’d get a couple of Stan’s basic stuff in. It made him feel warm, knowing that Kyle thought of him. 

The living room at a distance looked the same. He wondered if it had been quiet without him, Kyle and Kenny in the house instead of Stan and Kyle. 

He wondered if Super had been here. 

He shook his head free of the thought. Heroes didn’t often mingle outside of work. That was – he was home. He needed to stop thinking about it. 

The microwave beeped and Kyle summoned him to the kitchen, before recounting various apartment-block-dramas that had happened while he’d been gone. Kyle absolutely lived off seeing how humans interacted amongst each other, and had ever since Stan knew him. He said for a species that lived in such close quarters, they were incredibly confrontational. 

Stan said that’s why Kyle fit in so well. 

“But I think it’s settled down,” Kyle advised, finishing a story about the people who lived directly below them. “I’m pretty sure I saw him getting arrested by the police after a run in with Fastpass, and the noise sure has subsided.” 

“Serves him right. He was too loud.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that was the problem. Not the stealing from his mother for drug money.” 

Stan kicked him under the table. He got an unapologetic grin for his efforts. 

They finished eating and continued to sit at the table, chattering away between themselves as if he had been gone for a week rather than a few months. It was normal. It was…so close to normal. 

“Are you alright?” Kyle asked as there was a lull in the conversation. “I know we didn’t used to talk about hero stuff at home, and I won’t make a habit of it, but…you seemed off, after what happened today.” 

Stan couldn’t stop himself. He just couldn’t keep the words in, and instead they tumbled out in a barrage of word-vomit. “I’m fine. I just – I didn’t get much warning about your new Super-Best-Friend.” 

Kyle stopped. He narrowed his eyes in that calculating way he did when he was trying to figure out something that Stan had said that made Stan feel like an idiot. He pulled that wide mouthed, cocked browed expression when he’d figured it out and was just completely baffled. 

Stan scowled down at the table. 

“Are you talking about _Super_?” 

“Fitting name, huh?” 

“Are you _jealous_?” 

“What if I am?!” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air and pointedly ignoring the flush of shame on his cheeks. “I thought we were cool, Kyle. I thought we were fine, and we’d sorted it all out, and it was just going to go back to normal.” 

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

“I know! I know, but I can’t help the way I feel!” 

“Oh my – Jesus, dude.” 

Stan turned back to the table, planting his cheeks in his hands stubbornly. 

“Look,” Kyle dragged the chair out opposite him and sat, though Stan didn’t look up. “I’m sorry it’s not exactly what you expected.” 

His scowl deepened at the words. 

“But – I mean, did you genuinely think it was just going to go back to normal like nothing had happened?” 

“God you’re such an asshole!” 

Kyle spluttered at that, heat rising in his cheeks that betrayed his anger. “Where the fuck did that come from?” 

“You always just have to make me out like some kind of idiot!” 

“I don’t make you out like an idiot, Stan!” 

“Oh, why? Because I just am one?” 

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Kyle snapped, slamming a palm down on the table. “Fuck’s sake, Stan! I don’t think you’re an idiot! I think you say some stupid ass stuff sometimes, but you’re not an idiot.” 

“It’s not stupid to want things to go back to being good.” 

Kyle let out a frustrated sigh. It stung a bit. “Look, you can’t just erase what happened, and I can’t help making friends during the time when my best friend just abandoned me-!” 

“Abandoned?! Seriously?!” 

“I’m not finished!” Kyle snapped, hissing through his teeth at the interruption. “Yes, _abandoned_ , because that’s exactly what you did! Sure maybe siding with the Coon wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, but you did abandon me! You just packed a bag and left, without saying anything!” 

He had to actively bite down on his tongue to stop himself responding to that. 

“Did you expect me to just sit about and wait for you to return?” 

“I didn’t, but I didn’t expect you to replace me!” 

“I haven’t replaced you! Where are you even getting this from?!” 

“When we were fighting today!” Stan admitted despite his embarrassment. “You rely on him! You fight so in sync – you didn’t even look at me!” 

“Well, what about you and Wonder, huh? You had a special gadget made for him and everything!” 

“That’s different.” 

“Bullshit is it,” Kyle scoffed. “It’s the exact same! I didn’t expect you to not keep making friends with the people around you. Why am I any different?” 

The words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them. “You’re the one who always lords himself as better than us measly Earthlings.” 

It was a step too far and he knew it. Kyle stood up with such fury that he knocked the flimsy chair backwards and onto it’s side, biting out a scathing _fuck you_ before he stormed out the kitchen. Stan shut his eyes, resigning himself to being on his own before Kyle reappeared in the doors seconds later, always chasing the last word. 

“I hope Kenny hasn’t left shit all over your room, seeing as it’s such a fucking hardship having someone _replace you_ after you l _eft me_!” 

A few moments later the sound a door being slammed across the other side of the flat echoed. Stan groaned and let his head hit the counter. 

Why couldn’t he just keep his big mouth _shut_? His first night properly back in the flat, and he’d already fucked it up. The warmth that he felt from first arriving back had vanished and he was left feeling like a stranger in a place that he was trying to call his own. 

He thought about leaving. Going back to the Mansion, knowing the Professor would be there and would welcome him with open arms. It was tempting, but he decided against it. He didn’t make a big deal of getting home just to chicken out at the first sign of trouble. 

Instead he tiptoed through the apartment to get to his room, directly next to Kyle’s. He opened and shut the door as quietly as he could as if he was avoiding waking a sleeping lion. With the door closed and him in the safety of his room, he took a proper look at the place. 

Kenny had kept it well. Any trace of the blonde was gone, despite the text telling Stan that if he thought he might’ve left some stuff. It looked cleaner than when he’d left it, honestly. 

He thought of the magazines in the living room and felt a pang of guilt. It was probably more likely that Kyle had cleaned up after him, and moved any belongings out of Stan’s room. 

Well, shit. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he muttered to himself as he flopped back against fresh sheets. “He’s not replacing you with anyone.” 

It was easier to say it than believe it. 


	2. Chapter 2

When he woke up that morning, it was early. He slept badly. He had an ache in his spine that he couldn’t ignore. So, he got up. 

It was strange to wake up in his own room. He didn’t waste much time in getting ready before heading into the main room, making breakfast at six o’clock in the morning. By the time he was finished it was half past. If he remembered right, Kyle would be waking up within the hour to start getting ready for work. His actual, big boy job. 

He abandoned his dishes in the sink and gathered his things. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to face Kyle, not after last night. It still left a bad taste in his mouth, and he had too many feelings he hadn’t quite sorted out in his mind floating about. He didn’t know if he was angry at Kyle, Super, or himself. 

So instead he left for the Manor. A place that he’d grown a lot more comfortable in than his ‘home’. 

There were plenty of birds chirping away, keeping up activity in the grounds around the house. He entered the building to silence. Those who would be sleeping there were probably still sleeping. 

He dropped his bag near the large stairs that stood imposing in the entrance hall, leading to the rest of the Manor. He tried to plan out his day in his head. He didn’t think he could make something new; he wasn’t feeling the creative juices. He probably had work that was incomplete to finish, but he couldn’t bear to face a big project when he was in a bad mood. 

“You’re here early.” 

Toolshed looked up, wide-eyed, at the intrusion. He didn’t expect the night owl to be here, though he probably just hadn’t gone home yet. Mysterion was the type of person who kept you on your toes. Never let you settle in one spot. 

“Yeah, I am. You’re here late.” 

The whispers of a smile. “Yeah. I am.” 

He took a seat on the stairs where he’d dropped his bag. Mysterion stayed standing. “Long night?” 

“You could say that. You’ve not been here all night this time.” 

“No, I haven’t. I just…y’know, things are better, but they’re not perfect.” 

“I understand.” 

Toolshed thought that sometimes, Mysterion knew a lot more than he let on. 

“Things are never perfect, despite us constantly striving towards it. You should be proud of better.” 

“Thanks, dude.” 

Mysterion glanced behind him, where the door was. 

“I don’t mind you leaving.” 

The man froze, caught at the action. 

“I’ll be fine on my own. You’ve probably had a long night.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“Yeah, man. Is there anything you need me to work on?” 

“Yes. The Professor has left a request on your desk.” 

Toolshed nodded. “I’ll try do it today.” 

“Good luck.” 

Mysterion was gone, leaving Toolshed on his own in the Manor. He fell back on the stairs, staring up at the ceiling. He supposed…he should probably get to work. 

The request was easy enough. The Professor wanted basic repair work done to the Manor. Most of the maintenance requests came through his room, and sometimes he felt more like a handyman than a hero. It gave him something to distract himself with for most of the morning at least, until more people began showing their faces around the place. 

The thing with working while others were in the building was that they also often suddenly remembered things for him to do. 

It wasn’t till the afternoon that he was in his workshop. Mosquito was the first of the newbies to put in a requisition to them. Basic adjustments to the attic. He was working on one of the items he requested when he was disturbed. 

The door opened and he heard footsteps that reminded him of Tupperware. 

“I’ll just be a sec,” he said around the screwdriver in his mouth. “I just gotta…” 

“I’ll wait.” 

He snapped up at the voice. 

Stood opposite his table was a tall, handsome man, clad in blue. From the blue mask and suit, right down to the black boots on his feet. He didn’t know how to react. He wasn’t expecting a visit from the very person who had caused an argument between him and his best friend the night before. 

A smirk formed on his face. “You sure…that’s meant to go there?” 

He gestured to his mouth. Toolshed scrambled to grasp the screwdriver and drop it on the workbench next to him. 

The asshole had the audacity to chuckle. 

“I’m just…I’m nearly done.” 

“Go ahead.” 

Toolshed turned back to his work, hoping that Super would leave. But he didn’t. He stood there, observing the room, waiting for him to be done. 

It was getting on his nerves. 

“If you’re here to make a request, you’ll need to file one. Tupperware might be able to help you.” 

“I’m not here to make a request.” 

Toolshed gave up on working. He looked up at the other man. “Why are you here then?” 

He shrugged. “Kite…asked me to come see you.” 

“He…he what?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine. He didn’t really explain himself. Just asked me to come see you. I was hoping you might know why.” 

“Great. You’ve come to see me. If there’s nothing else, you know where the door is.” 

Super’s eyes narrowed. “I think there’s something else. Kite wouldn’t ask me to do something for nothing. You sure you don’t know?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he repeated back. 

“What’s with the attitude?” 

“I don’t have an attitude.” 

He scoffed. “Yeah right. I thought it was gonna be about yesterday, some kind of paperwork I had to sign, but I’m beginning to think it’s something else.” 

“Paperwork’s done.” 

“Great, I guess that’s what I’ll tell him.” 

Toolshed glared across the space. “Tell him I don’t need someone checking up on me like some kind of babysitter.” 

Super pulled a face. “Look, _kid_ , I don’t know what your problem is, but if you keep this shit up, I don’t blame him trying to hire you a babysitter.” 

“What’s that meant to mean?” 

“What do you think?” Super sneered down at him. “That I think you’re being childish.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m upset about!” 

“I don’t, but I know that this?” he gestured around the room. “Is the kind of place where we need to be in our best headspaces. We can’t be letting our outside problems affect our hero work. So how about you fucking suck it up and get on with your job?” 

He felt a flush of shame at the reminder of where he was. He was meant to be a professional. Meant to be setting an example of who the Freedom Pals were, welcoming in the new group. Instead he was sat getting lectured by one of them. 

The shame only made him more pissed off. 

“I only came down here cause Kite asked me to,” Super stated. “He never said I had to stay.” 

“I’ll find him myself. Later.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. 

Super placed his hands on the workbench opposite Toolshed, and there was a coldness to the air as his eyes narrowed. A chill ran down Toolshed’s spine, seeing the stormy eyes across the table swirling, nostrils flare, and watched fingertips dig into the hard wood. He swallowed a lump in his throat as his eyes trailed up to Super’s face. There was no denying the threatening stance. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Super’s, seeing the blue depths begin to swim with anger. He felt his breathing grow heavier. 

“If you fuck with him, I’m going to fuck with you,” Super growled. It was a low, all consuming growl. “I’ll come back in here, and I’ll make you regret every decision you’ve made. You got it, kid?” 

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. 

“Good.” 

Super stood back up tall, before he spun on his heel and headed out the door. Toolshed let out a gasp of air as the tension left with him, collapsing against the table. He’d seen the reaction that Super got out of people, the way he could taunt someone into submission, or into a fight. To be on the other end of that gaze was horrifying. 

He looked across the side of the workbench where Super had been standing. There were the smallest marks in the table where he had dug his fingertips in. 

“Shit.” 

But…honestly, as much as it pained him to admit it, Super was right. He was being childish. It was childish to expect things to go back to absolutely the same, absolutely normal. They were going to have to build that back up. 

If he wanted it to be like before, he was going to have to put in the time. 

He didn’t know much about what happened with The Coon, but he knew enough to know it was rough on the remainder of the Coon and Friends. It couldn’t have been easy on Kite, as much as he pretended to be above emotions sometimes. 

Kite had ceremoniously stabbed him in the back. While when the Freedom Pals had left formally on their own, splitting the group in two, Kite had been much more wicked about the way he solved the issue. 

The Freedom Pals had left due to differences in where they felt like their priorities should be heading. The Coon cared about funding, publicity, the stardom of superheroes. Sure, funding was important. Yes, the publicity was nice. But the Professor felt like their focus should be on trying to root out crime from its source, take a more delicate approach. Mysterion and Call Girl hated the limelight, and preferred to work in the shadows. Wonder was sick of being constantly used to hold up the ‘stronger’ members of the group, at The Coon’s orders. Toolshed and Tupperware fully agreed and supported the Professor’s decision. 

Those that had stayed were much more integrated in the way that The Coon conducted missions. They weren’t as affected by the downfalls, so it was harder for them to see. Kite was usually loyal, stuck to his guns, and felt like it would do more harm than good to split the group like they had done. 

He’d expressed his feelings on the matter plenty. 

It was clean cut. All cards on the table. They left, and they all knew where they stood. 

When Kite had contacted The Professor, the description that he had been provided with was every much a usurping of a throne. The Coon had the rug pulled out from under him. Completely blindsided. Those left on his team weren’t as soft as the ones who left. They didn’t pull their punches. 

That can’t have been easy. Admitting you were wrong, and then stabbing someone who you considered a friend in the back. 

Toolshed let out a sigh, work in front of him completely abandoned. 

Regardless of his feelings on Super, he’d upset Kite. He’d upset _Kyle_ , his _best friend_ , and his response was to hole himself up in his workshop and bury himself in work in hopes it would just…go away. 

Just go back to normal, without him putting in the effort. 

He put the work away and exchanged it for something else. A pair of aviators that he had been working on as welcome back gift, nearly-but-not-quite finished. If he worked hard enough on them, he’d be able to get them finished by nightfall. He owed Kite that much. 

\-- 

Months may have passed, but Stan was glad that not much had changed in their flat. It was easy to find what he needed in record time, before Kyle got home from work. He had it all set up perfectly. The perfect apology. At least he hoped it would be. 

There was a white box on the coffee table in their living room, he’d tidied up his mess, knowing how neat Kyle liked to be. Started to put some of the things that he’d taken to the Manor back in their rightful places, so that it actually looked like he lived here once again. 

He felt like he’d come home after a long day. He looked around and felt good about what he’d made. 

He was in the kitchen when he heard the front door open. There was no announcement at first. He was too busy taking a dish out the oven, swearing as the steam hit his face all at once, to look round where the front door was. 

“Stan?” 

“Hang on!” he put the dish on the stovetop. “I’m just-!” 

“Are you making chilli nachos?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted. He finally turned round. “I am.” 

Kyle stood in the doorway, button-up and work slacks, his jacket in his hands. Green eyes scanned the room, ever analytical, before settling on Stan. 

“Welcome home?” 

“He spoke to you, then?” 

Stan grimaced at how direct the question was. “I mean, yeah, but…I dunno, I was hoping to make it up to you.” 

“What’s this?” Kyle had headed towards the coffee table in the centre of the room, where the white box lay. 

“A gift. Sorry, I brought work home with me.” 

Green eyes looked back up at him, though a lot less guarded than before. Stan laughed at how eager the redhead looked. 

“You can open it, if you want.” 

Kyle wasted no time. He dropped his jacket and sat on the couch, tearing into the gift. He pulled out the aviators, staring at them for a few moments as Stan launched into his explanation. 

“I know you’ve had your current ones for ages, and these things have a lifespan on them, right? Token helped me polish them up ready for the program you have installed on your old ones, he did a lot of the technical computer stuff, and I can’t really test them without you putting your program into them first, but they’re definitely an upgrade from your old ones. They should be a bit more resistant to weather, and we put in a few new functions so you could expand your program more, and-!” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Stan cut to a stop. Kyle looked a little too upset about receiving a gift for his liking. When he looked up at Stan, his brow was creased and his lips pulled down. He looked too sad. 

“I don’t deserve these.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I should’ve left with you,” his usually strong voice was subdued. It was unsettling. “I should’ve never taken so long to – to open my eyes! You guys have opened your arms to welcome us and I don’t think we’ve done enough to deserve it,” Kyle let out a sigh. “I know that Mysterion and Call Girl are keeping tabs on us.” 

“They’re not-!” 

“Stan.” 

He shut his mouth at that one. While neither of them had told him they were, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. 

“I don’t blame them, honestly. But you…” Kyle looked up with a sad smile. “You’ve got a good heart. A soft heart. Even if you get jealous easy.” 

He scowled. He definitely didn’t pout. 

“I can’t accept these.” 

“I want you to,” Stan spoke quietly. “I wanted to make you a welcome back gift, but…I think they’re more of a peace offering, now. Yes, he came to talk to me, and I’m not about to say I like him, I think he’s a jackass, but I don’t want to fight with you about it. I’m sick of fighting with you.” 

“I’m sick of fighting with you too.” 

“So…truce?” 

Kyle’s lips curled into a smile. “I couldn’t say no when I can smell those nachos, dude.” 

“I hoped they’d help settle the deal.” 

“I’ve missed your cooking. Kenny tried making me them once, but – well, he’s good at a lot of things, but not making chilli nachos.” 

“Wanna eat in your room so we can hook these bad boys up to your computer?” 

They spent a good portion of their evening doing exactly that. They sat together on the floor of Kyle’s room, wires out and monitor dragged to the floor with them, greasy fingers tapping against keyboards and leaving fingerprints against the aviator lenses. 

It took them late into the night. He dozed off at one point, lying on Kyle’s bed as the man put the finishing touches on the program before installation. It wasn’t until Kyle started shaking him that he really registered he’d fallen asleep. 

“Shove off or move over, I’m ready for bed.” 

“Did you finish them?” Stan murmured, shuffling over to allow Kyle to get into bed as he looked over the edge where the dull light of the computer screen on the floor. 

“Pretty much. I’ve gotta leave them on to finish now.” 

“I hope they work well.” 

“Thanks, dude.” 

He turned to look at his friend, seeing the green eyes staring at him, always looking like he was searching for something. For someone who claimed he was ready for bed, he sure looked alert. 

“I hope they’ll be okay.” 

“They will. I wish there was something I could repay you with…” 

“Just…don’t send Super down looking for me again, how about that?” 

Kyle chuckled. “That bad, huh?” 

“I don’t think he’d be willing to do it again even if you asked.” 

“I should hold him as a threat then. Next time you step out of line.” 

Stan rolled onto his side to face Kyle properly. “They kinda look up to you like some kind of leader, don’t they?” 

He flushed and looked away. “Don’t start. Mosquito’s already called me _boss_ once. I don’t want to encourage it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes,” he hissed out. “I hate it. He called me boss, ironically, and then Fastpass started doing it because he found out how much I hated it.” 

He chuckled. “I can see that. He’s a funny guy.” 

“He’s so not funny.” 

“I think it’s kinda cool.” 

Kyle dropped his head to look at him. 

“That, like, you’re in charge of this group? It suits you.” 

“I shouldn’t be.” 

Stan bit his tongue. 

“It was Coon’s gig, I just – I just took them from the bad guy to the good guys. I’m not their leader, or in charge of them.” 

“How…is Coon?” 

Kyle sighed out. “I don’t know. We lost track of him. He’s learnt to be a pretty slippery escape artist. I…I asked The Professor for some resources to look.” 

“Really?” 

“I don’t think I’m exactly meant to talk about it, but yeah. I have a meeting with him tomorrow to iron out what I need. I’m hoping to borrow Call Girl’s skill set.” 

“She’s talented. If anyone could find him, it’ll be Call Girl.” 

“I just hope she’s willing to work with me on it, and not shut me out.” 

Stan followed Kyle’s gaze and looked up at the ceiling. “She probably will. I remember when she didn’t trust me, if I asked her for help she’d keep me involved. She likes to...” 

“Work with you so that she can watch you for mistakes?” 

“Uh, yeah, pretty much.” 

Kyle hummed. “Figures. We’ll see what happened, I guess.” 

Stan wrapped a hand round Kyle’s, squeezing lightly. “You’ll manage it, dude. You’ll find him.” 

The redhead didn’t comment. Stan wasn’t sure if the man really wanted to, or if he was only doing it because he had to. 

His relationship with Coon had always been complicated. 

There was a lot that Stan needed to talk to him about. But...now probably wasn’t the time. 

They continued to murmur low to each other, Kyle talking about his day at work, Stan not talking about his day at the Manor. Eventually Kyle had gone to sleep, red lashes touching his cheeks and disappearing to dreamland. Stan crept out the room towards his own, barely managing to undress before his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. 

It felt better going to his own room that time. Felt more like he was welcome. He thought Mysterion was probably right. It probably would never be perfect, but he was proud that they’d made it to where they did. 

Even before they split, they had their arguments. Kyle wasn’t easy to live with, and Stan couldn’t imagine he was always a sunshine and sparkles either. They always managed to overcome them. They always managed to stay best friends. 

This was just another one of those times. 

He went to sleep dreaming of stormy grey eyes, dents in his workbench, and bright green eyes lit up with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this chapter wasn't quite long enough, but also it had everything I needed it to have in and I didn't wanna waste words.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Call Girl who requested him, personally. The note came through the special app she had designed for them to communicate safely; the job, what she needed, the time she would be doing it. In a classic Call Girl manner, it was an infiltration job and she needed him to be there for his skills with tools. She’d long since discovered that being able to bend machines to his will was wonderful for breaking into places she couldn’t get in on her own. 

“They think they can stop me, just by removing a computer interface that I can’t hack,” she’d said. “They can think again.” 

Kite confirmed to him that he had his meeting with Call Girl, and suspected that it might be what the job was for. Toolshed had wanted to ask more details; was he going to join them? What was it they were looking for? Was it okay if he went instead of Kite? What was said in the meeting? 

But it wasn’t the right time. He was beginning to wonder if there was ever going to be a right time to start sharing every single piece of information again. 

He met Call Girl at the specified location; the back alleys between a club district at one o’clock in the morning when everyone out was drunk out their minds. She was there already, wearing the getup she always wore when they needed to be stealthy; black one piece, covering as much of her skin as she could, belt tinted purple that held her wires and covered gadgets. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “Time to bust some crime?” 

She smiled at his greeting. “You know it. Thanks for coming with me on this one.” 

“No problem. Office building four blocks away, yeah?” 

She nodded. “I’d like to go in through the basement, if possible. There’ an unused carpark underground. 

“Elevator?” 

“Stairs, but it’ll be well boarded up.” 

He patted his belt. “I’m ready for that.” 

“Good. Let’s get going.” 

They moved in silence as she led them towards the area they needed. Getting into the car park was the first obstacle, seeing him drilling his way through some bolts in two metal doors in an alley way to pop them off and get them into the carpark. She was sure to place them appropriately to try and cover their trail from the outside, without blocking their exit. 

“So what are you hoping to find here?” he finally asked as they stuck to the walls and walked through the old carpark. 

“A lead.” 

“Is this for Coon?” 

She shot him a disapproving look over her shoulder. “Kite’s been talking to you about it.” 

“Yeah, he has.” 

“I knew he would. Yes, I’m working on behalf of Kite. I guess he thought my skill set would be useful.” 

“He’s not wrong. If anyone’s gonna find someone who’s missing, it’ll be you.” 

“Thanks. How has it been, with Kite?” 

He grimaced at the question, crouching down at the door she presented him with, while she stayed watch. He spoke while he worked. “It’s been…fine.” 

“Trouble in paradise?” 

“I guess it was never gonna go back to normal straight away.” 

“No, it wasn’t. You both seem to be doing okay from what I’ve seen.” 

He smirked up at her. “You been keeping tabs on me again?” 

She knocked her foot against his leg. “I’m _always_ keeping tabs on you.” 

They entered the stairwell, and she was less bothered about covering their trail that time, now that they were in a more abandoned area. They started to head up the stairs, keeping light on their feet as they moved, despite not hearing anything from higher up in the build. 

“I’m struggling with the remote access,” she confessed. 

“It might be because we’re so low. Once we get closer to the tech, you’ll have more luck.” 

“I hope so.” 

His guess was correct. As they raised through the building, she gave a small noise of victory as her access was granted, informing him that they had access to the CCTV only. Her tone dropped as she continued to monitor her phone. 

“That’s strange.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s deserted,” she muttered. “It looks empty – is that only _one_ security guard? I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more about. Keep your guard up.” 

“Do you want me to wait down in the carpark?” Toolshed suggested. “I feel like I’m not…the best infiltrator, compared to you and Mysterion.” 

“You’re doing fine. Don’t sell yourself short.” 

“Maybe we should contact him, see if he’s free to come help you?” 

Her voice turned sour. “He’s been unavailable for days. Special assignment.” 

“Are you…salty about it?” 

“I’m not salty.” 

She sure sounded salty. 

“I think he’s been tasked to clear up The Coon’s mess,” Call Girl admitted. “He’s been really cagey about it.” 

“I thought he trusted you with this kind of stuff?” 

“Mysterion doesn’t trust _anyone_ ,” she corrected. “His paranoia is probably what keeps him being so good at what he does, though. There’s stuff he knows that I wouldn’t even think of.” 

He agreed with that. The guy wasn’t the most forthcoming, or friendly. “Do you…also get the feeling he knows more about us than we think?” 

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What, about who we are?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I suppose.” 

“Do you know who he is?” 

She sighed, exasperated. It was a conversation they’d had before. “You know you’re entering dangerous territory with this, right?” 

“I know, I know, I just…you know who I am.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“And I’m sure some of the others know who each other are. The Professor probably knows us all, right?” 

“I feel like that’s more because of his telepathy skills than anything.” 

“Yeah, yeah, so, do you know everyone?” 

“Where is this going?” she asked, stopping and turning to face him head on. “Because I’ve told you before, I wouldn’t tell anyone who you were, so I’m not going to do the same to anyone else.” 

“No, that’s not what I want to know. I just…I know you’re keeping tabs on the newbies, right?” 

She narrowed her eyes. 

“And I thought maybe you could…keep an extra close tab on one of them.” 

“Is it Mosquito?” 

“What? No. Why Mosquito?” 

She huffed. “Because he creeps me out. If he hits on me one more time I’m gonna hit on him with a rock to his skull.” 

“No, not Mosquito. I’m talking about Super.” 

She squinted. She opened her mouth. She shut it again. 

“Yes?” 

“Super?” she pressed. “Why Super? What – didn’t you help him with a mission the other day?” 

“Yeah, and he gave me the heebie-jeebies.” 

“The heebie-?” she brushed off his word choice. “What’s your beef with Super?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I dated you for months, I know when you’re lying. You’re really bad at it.” 

He groaned. “I just don’t like him, okay? Do you really need the reason?” 

“You’re asking me to spy on him.” 

“No, I’m asking you to just look at him especially close while you’re looking at everyone!” 

“Yeah, and I’m spying on everyone, so you’re asking me to especially spy on him. I think I deserve to know why.” 

“I don’t trust him.” 

She was unconvinced. 

“He’s an asshole.” 

“Have you been fighting with him?” 

“Yes!” he confessed. “Okay, yes, I’ve been fighting with him!” 

“Oh, Tool…” 

“I know you use that as like, an endearing nickname, but it’s not.” 

“Look, I’ll keep an eye on him, because I care about you, but don’t let your emotions get the better of your judgement. He comes off as very…rude, but I think there’s an honesty about him. He’s very frank.” 

He grumbled. 

“Besides, Wonder seems fond of him, and so does Kite.” 

His feelings must’ve shown across his face. She picked up on it instantly. 

“Unless…that’s the problem?” 

“He just – he’s so annoying!” Toolshed huffed. “He came barging into my workshop the other day like he owns the place. He left dents in my table!” 

“Let’s sit.” 

“We’re on a mission.” 

“Yeah, and you can’t concentrate, so we might as well try sort out your meltdown before it gets us killed later,” she made herself comfortable on the steps. “So what’s your issue exactly?” 

“I dunno,” he plonked down beside her. “Kite thinks I’m jealous.” 

“What, that he used to be your partner and now he has a new one?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Is he right?” 

“Maybe.” 

She wasn’t impressed. “I get that you were excited to get him back, but it’s gonna take some time before you mesh together like you used to. A lot of trust was broken after the split, on both ends.” 

“I get that, but I’m not happy about it.” 

She gave him a smile he received from her far too often; fond, but fed up. “I can promise to keep a close eye on him. Will that help you feel better?” 

“Yes. It’ll give me the upper edge.” 

“It’ll give _me_ the upper edge. I’m not going to share his dirty secrets with you. But if I think I find anything suspicious, I’ll act on it.” 

“Alright. I trust you.” 

“Good. Apparently you’re not feeling very trusting of late.” 

He hummed in agreement. 

“Maybe it’d be worth you doing a mission with him?” she suggested. “Try to get to know him a bit better?” 

He gave her a look of horror. 

“Oh, come on, it wouldn’t be that bad.” 

“I can’t imagine anything worse.” 

“Keep your enemies close.” 

“That’s too close.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I see, I’m meant to do all your dirty work, am I?” 

“I don’t even know how we’d mesh!” he threw his hands in the air. “Our powers aren’t compatible. Like, at all.” 

“You’re pretty resourceful. I’m sure you could find a way.” 

“You’re as bad as Kite,” Toolshed muttered. 

“What did he do?” 

A flush of shame. “He…he’s the reason Super was in my workshop. He got him to come in and talk to me, after we had an argument.” 

A teasing smile spread across her face. “Ah, I see. So it was less that he barged into your office, and more that he was doing a favour for your friend?” 

He glared at her. 

“I take it you took it out on him.” 

“I don’t need a lecture.” 

“You’re right, you don’t. Think about it though. I think it’d be worth you spending some time with him. Even if just to see what makes him tick.” 

He scowled. “I know you’re trying to convince me to do it by making it sound like I have something to gain.” 

A smile spread across her face. 

He knew it, but he also knew it was working. 

Before either of them could say anything else, there was a bang from somewhere above them, like the sound of heavy doors opening in the building. They were on alert immediately, both on their feet, pressed against the railing. Call Girl began to tap away on one of her phones, bringing up the CCTV she'd hacked. 

“What do you need?” 

“A computer,” she muttered. “Preferably one not too far away from here, to make it easy to get back.” 

“Let’s go.” 

They made it into one of the offices and she sat down at a computer, having him stand guard at a door while she worked. He could hear the tick tacking of his fingers clipping against a keyboard, peering through the window in the door as she did so. 

He had one of her phones in his hand, a live feed for rotating CCTV cameras flickering through. On one he saw the security guard in question, sat at a desk reading a book. On the one for the room they were in she’d hacked it, putting it through a loop to avoid anyone knowing they were there. 

He didn’t dare ask any questions on how it was going for fear of breaking the silence. 

With a frustrated growl she finished up what she was doing and raced for him, grabbing him and powering through the doors. She abandoned all pretence of being quiet as they moved back to where the stairs were that would lead them down to the car park. 

“Empty,” she ground out. “I’ve taken a copy of the records, but the place is desolate. I don’t know if I’ll have found anything of use.” 

“I guess they might’ve been expecting you.” 

They raced down the stairs and back to the carpark. She all but kicked the doors to the main street open in her anger. 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “For wasting your time. It looks like a bust.” 

“It wasn’t a waste. Even if you don’t get anything out of it, at least it’s somewhere you can cross off your-!” 

They heard it together and reacted in sync; footsteps. They picked up a door each and ducked back into the building them, using them to shield them from view of whoever’s footsteps they could hear. They staggered the doors, creating a small gap in the side where Call Girl stood so she could peer through the gap. 

He held his breath, doing this same with his own to get a good look. 

In the alley there was a lanky, red haired man, who looked poor or homeless at first glance. He had a filthy, oversized jacket, and torn skinny jeans on his legs. But he was clean shaven, with round, polished glasses on his freckled face, and clean hands. There was something that didn’t quite sit right. 

They watched as he moved to the cardboard that was lined up beside one of the large bins, shuffling it out the way to reveal a rucksack. A worn, tattered rucksack, but one that he crouched down in front of to open. 

Toolshed held his breath as he watched the man reach in and withdraw a wad of cash. He raised a finger, flicking the money through, as if counting it at super speed, before he returned it to the bag and pulled it tightly closed. 

He tossed the bag over his shoulder and began to walk away. 

They waited a good five minutes before they came out of cover. Toolshed put the doors back as they should’ve been, any obvious sign that they’d been there gone. Call Girl stood watch while he worked. 

“Was that what you were hoping for?” 

“I think so,” she said. “Coon’s bank records signal he withdrew a large amount of money from an ATM here before he dropped off the map.” 

Toolshed looked down the alley where the man had disappeared to. “We shouldn’t hang about.” 

“Right. Let’s go.” 

\--

Kenny had been the one to suggest they went out. Just the two of them to catch up and have a boy’s night out, though Kyle declined saying he was busy with work. Stan knew better than that. Kyle finished work with enough time to come and see them, but _god forbid_ he missed the newest episode of his latest period drama. 

It was kind of funny, that among the list of things that would have Kyle glued to the TV was sports, and historical dramas. One of those things that Stan pinned to him being not of this world. 

There was a new bar that Kenny wanted to show him, that Kyle had taken him to while Kenny had been staying in their flat. He didn’t say it, but Stan knew it was because Kyle had been dodging their usual haunts. He’d done the same thing, to avoid bumping into each other. 

It was a cute place, The Botanist; a bar that was on the upper floor of a building surrounded by a giant tree with lights. Atmospheric and well decorated. Looked fancier than Stan’s wallet. Looked fancier than both their wallets. 

“Don’t worry about it, dude!” Kenny insisted. “It’s not too bad!” 

They headed to the bar to grab a couple of drinks before they would find their seats. 

“I figured it might be nice for you to have a night out,” Kenny said. “You’ve not been out since you moved back into the flat, right?” 

“Yeah,” Stan nodded. “You’re right. Sorry for…how awkward it’s been, by the way.” 

“Don’t worry about it, dude. Sometimes people fight. It worked out at a good time for me, at least.” 

“Did you sort out a new place?” 

“Yup!” Kenny grinned wide. “I sure did. House share, but it’s better than nothing, right?” 

Stan nodded. “Yeah, it is.” 

“I hope I left your room the way you like it?” 

“It’s perfect, dude. Thanks.” 

Before the conversation could continue they were interrupted by someone behind the bar. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

Stan looked up at the server, caught at the sight of him. His eyes were piercing, jawline defined, and skin with just a touch of tan about it. His hair was dark, black like Stan’s, but styled impeccably well. The black button up he wore suited him well, rolled up to show off well-built forearms. 

He was glad the man was offering him a drink, because he sure felt thirsty out of nowhere. 

His brain kickstarted as he realised that the grey eyes were looking at him, waiting for an answer to a question he couldn’t remember. He fumbled. 

“Uh – yeah, I – um…” 

“He’ll have a beer,” Kenny filled in, knocking their shoulders together. “And I’ll have a vodka orange.” 

“Sure thing.” 

The barman turned round, but not without one last glance at Stan as he did so. 

Kenny gripped Stan’s shoulder, pulling him in close to keep their voices down. “You might wanna oogle less if you wanna make a good impression?” 

“I’m not-!” he glanced up to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I’m not _oogling_ , asshole!” 

“You totally are. Slack jawed, wide eyed, drool and everything.” 

He went to defend himself, but was cut short as two glasses were put down in front of them. His mouth snapped shut fast enough that his teeth clacked together. 

He looked up to see the barman looking at him with a smirk on his face. He felt his cheeks heating up. 

It wasn’t that obvious, right? 

He wasn’t actually slack jawed? 

Well, not anymore, but… 

He was beginning to feel a little queasy. 

A cocked brow and downturned lips had replaced the smirk as the server turned to Kenny. “Uh, is he alright?” 

“He’s – oh, uh, yeah he’s fine. Chin up, Stan, you’re looking green.” 

“Sorry!” his voice was too squeaky. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, that’s – thanks. For my drink.” 

“Sure thing,” the man’s voice was like velvet to his ears. 

They continued to stare at each other. 

It was Kenny who broke the silence. “So…does this mean we’re getting our drinks for free?” 

“Nice try, but no. I don’t give free drinks to new faces,” the man looked Stan up and down. “I’ve gotta see you at least three times before you get a free one.” 

“What about three times in one night?” 

They both turned to Stan, who panicked as he realised that going from ‘oogling’ to ‘badly flirting’ would definitely not improve his first impression. 

“Y’know, cause, I think I’ll come to the bar more than once, so…” 

He could feel Kenny vibrating with laughter next to him. 

“Your fourth drink,” the barman settled. “Your fourth drink tonight can be on me. How about that?” 

“That sounds fair.” 

“Fourth drink from me, that is.” 

“Yeah, Stan, don’t go cheating on him with other servers.” 

Stan felt a rush of heat in his face and kicked Kenny. Hard. 

“Ow!” 

“We’ll – uh – be back. Later. For another drink.” 

The man smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I look forward to it.” 

He picked up his glass and turned round on his heel, leaving without a real destination in mind. He didn’t relax until he was sat in a chair at a table, letting out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding as he sunk his face into his hands and groaned. 

“That was a disaster.” 

He glared up at the blonde who settled down opposite him. “I hate you.” 

Kenny grinned wide, completely innocent. 

“I just – I fucked that up, didn’t I?” 

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Kenny glanced back over to the bar. “He seemed pretty into it.” 

Stan followed the man’s gaze, swallowing a lump in his throat as he caught sight of the very barman who had him so wound up. He was serving someone else now, all lazy smirks and eye rolls as the other bar staff interacted with him. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you so bad you went green since Wendy.” 

“Me neither,” he admitted. 

“What’s with you and tall, dark haired beauties?” 

Stan glared at his friend. “I’ve got a type, alright?” 

“Hey, you might’ve scored a free drink out of your tragic flirting methods. Fourth one, yeah?” 

A smile crept onto his face. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

“Can’t have fucked up that badly then.” 

Stan cleared his throat as he turned his attention fully back to the conversation. “We should talk about…something else. Other than me being tragic.” 

“Sure thing, dude. I’ll pretend it didn’t happen!” 

The smile on Kenny’s face promised that he would not forget it, though. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent time with Kenny while he’d been off moping about the Freedom Pal’s Manor. They’d met up like normal, the blonde being the all too willing go between the two best friends who were fighting. He didn’t ask for the details, telling them both that whatever it was, he trusted they’d tell him when they were ready. 

He would sometimes try to convince Stan to talk to Kyle. Tell him how the redhead had asked after him. When Kenny and Kyle had been out together and passed Stan, the first time it happened Kenny had called him over to chat. Stan and Kyle had tried to keep up their appearance of still friends, but it was hard. 

The next time he’d seen the pair out, he made an effort to dodge them to avoid it. 

The blonde was always a good friend, someone they could rely on, who would stay with them when he needed space from whatever trouble he’d ended up in. He worked a multitude of jobs and used to stay with his sister, until she had moved in with her partner. 

When he went for their second drink, he was glad to see that it was the same bartender who served him, even if it was a little rushed. There were plenty of people around, but the dark haired man took the time to move to him, lopsided smile on his face as he asked: 

“Same again, or something different?” 

“Same again, thanks.” 

With a nod he disappeared to get the drinks. 

It was too busy to stay and chat and really, he probably needed a little bit more liquid courage in him before he did so without totally messing it up. 

He never got the chance. 

Kenny clicked his tongue as his phone lit up, opening up the messages. “Shit.” 

“Work?” 

“Yeah,” he confessed. “Someone’s called in sick, need me to cover it.” 

“That’s what you get for being so hardworking.” 

Kenny smirked. “Hey, overtime pays them bills.” 

“I guess we should head off.” 

The blonde looked a little crestfallen. “You haven’t had your fourth drink yet, dude.” 

“What, am I supposed to stick around on my own?” Stan raised a brow in disbelief. “No way.” 

Blue eyes tuned back to his phone, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment. Stan wondered if there was a chance that this would be the moment where Kenny actually said no to the extra work. That maybe he was going to choose to stay out, for once. 

“Sorry, man,” Kenny gave an apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

Stan forced a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

“Hey, he didn’t say you had to have all four drinks in one night, did he?” 

No, but Stan doubted that he made enough of an impact that he’d be remembered next time. 

They downed the rest of their drinks and left the bar, braving the night air in the city they lived in. Kenny was quick to say his goodbye and disappear off to whichever job it was that was calling for him now. 

Stan glanced up at the neon lights that surrounded him, sighing as he finally allowed his disappointment to settle in at having to go home early. 

Kyle was asleep on the couch when he got back. He rolled his eyes at the man and moved to pick up the dirty plate and cup from the coffee table, turning off the TV while he was at it. He didn’t bother waking the redhead up though. If he wanted to fall asleep on the couch instead of going to a perfectly fine bed, Stan wasn’t going to stop him. 

It wasn’t like he worked on a weekend anyway. He didn’t have anywhere to be the next day. 

Stan went to sleep before he received the text from Kenny that he would wake up to the next morning, sent to both him and Kyle, suggesting that the three of them should go out again on Saturday seeing as he had to cut it short, and Kyle wouldn’t have an excuse to not hang out. It was a good suggestion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I was preparing for Cryle week, and then Twenny week is soon so I'm working on that too! 
> 
> And then I shall have unlimited time (minus work).


End file.
